


Damian's Guide to Seducing an Alien

by Luna (PrincessLunaLover)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Super Sons (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multi, but some wonder and batfam, jason is a petty bitch, pay as much attention to the current continuity as DC Rebirth, superfam centric, supergirls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessLunaLover/pseuds/Luna
Summary: Damian is turning sixteen, and is finally ready to admit to himself that he wants to date Jon. However, with the recent influx of brothers and sisters with Jon...it's going to be a lot harder than he possibly could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

Damian was a very practical boy.

Well, that may be phrasing it incorrectly, but he definitely was not someone who took serious missions lightly. He fooled around sometimes, yes, and sometimes he might be a little arrogant (though Todd would certainly snort and ask when ‘a little’ became the new way of saying ‘massively over-egotistical’) but Damian liked to consider himself someone who knew his limits, and knew when to get things done.

Everything in his life was methodical, down to a science. He was performative, of course—there was absolutely no denying the fact that Damian enjoyed putting on a show—but there was also the fact that everything he did had a purpose to it, even if that purpose was as ridiculous as pissing off Grayson for the thousandth time that day.

Really, Damian didn’t know why people didn’t appreciate the lengths he went through to annoy people more. He had a check list of things that he had yet to get to—most of them involving unique ways to piss off Todd.

It was just something that never got old.

Sometime after Kent showed up—the redheaded Kent who took the name Nightwing, like Grayson—more aliens began to show up after him, other aliens who Damian later found-out were lost members of the Kent family. Kon-El, Lar-Grand, Cir-El, Linda Danvers, and Jon Lane Kent. All of them were found by the old and new Superman, who had both reunited quite happily with their apparent long-lost family, before settling into something akin to a clan of supers that Damian had honestly been surprised to see form.

The Lane one—one that Jon had taken to calling “Laney,” as well as calling him his “twin”— was apparently the child of his own world’s Superman, while the rest of them were the child of the older one. “Laney” had settled-in after the longest amount of time, though it had seemed that it was mostly because of the help of Jon, and finding his own, strange group of friends that Damian had been surprised even more to see form.

For one, he didn’t think that there could be anyone out there even more self-destructive than Todd, but it seemed to be the case when Lane found himself hanging-out with Artemis and Todd.

At first, it had just been a case of finding someone who was just as outcast as the rest of them (which, honestly, he really couldn’t blame Todd for, even if Damian quite readily said that he wanted no friends, he needed no friends, and he was damn glad to hear that Jon hated him, thank you very much) but it had soon seemed to become a regular thing between them. An occasional meet-up became a regular meet-up, which became something of a team, which all of them denied fervently—save for maybe Artemis, who just said that it was a thing that boys did. They were in such denial that they became ridiculous, she said, and tossed her long hair over her shoulder in an effort to hide her smile.

Really, Damian thought she wasn’t giving them enough credit. After all, it only took him four years to admit that he liked Jon to himself. That was quite a record for a Wayne, especially considering the fact that it took his father over ten to admit it to Kent, and it took Drake five to admit it to the smaller Kent.

That, of course, brought them to what Damian was currently planning: a way to ask Jon out, and to make sure that he said yes, without any possibility of failure.

He was sitting down at the computer of the bat-cave, hunched over the keyboard, while his eyes were locked on the massive monitor above his head. Tapping away quietly at the keyboard, he was running through a list of possible ways to do this, each in a carefully-numbered and organized manner, from most likely to succeed, to least likely to succeed, as well as which were most easy to preform, to the most outlandish and difficult to pull off. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Damian highlighted the top one in a yellow outline on his word document, considering it closely.

**1.) Make homemade chocolates for Jon**

He had no idea how to cook, of course, which left this completely and utterly useless to him, but nobody ever said that Damian wasn’t stubborn for a reason. He was pretty sure that with a few days he could learn how to do this—he was the son of the bat and the grandson of the demon, learning how to make a few chocolate hearts wasn’t something out of the realm of possibility, dammit—but, even so, everything that he did had to be perfect in order to best impress Jon, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do something as simple as just make some chocolates for him.

Drawing his knees up to his chin in thought, the tiny bat contemplated the situation for a moment, before he suddenly felt the weight of the chair shift behind him, and he shot upright, grabbing a batarang from his belt in the process. Looking up, he saw that Jason had planted an elbow on the back of the bat chair and was looking up at the screen, already having removed his hood, with it tucked underneath his arm.

Freezing up quickly, Damian glanced back over his shoulder to the screen, before he pulled the plug on the massive monitor, and turning it to black, praying that Jason hadn’t figured out what he was doing. Jason, much to his relief, didn’t say a single word, and only looked back down at Damian with raised eyebrows, planting his chin on his elbow while he watched the youngest bat.

“What are you using the old man’s computer for?” He asked, a bored tone to his voice. Damian scowled, glaring up at Todd, before shoving his metal pole up into the bottom of Todd’s chin, then scooting himself forward on his chair, hunching over in frustration.

Of course, Todd had caught the pole even before it struck him, and stood there with his eyebrows raised, pushing it back down. “Getting defensive, huh? You’re not doing anything bad, right? Old man wouldn’t be happy with you using his computer for crime.”

“Why do you care, Todd? You hate father.”

“I don’t.” He yawned. “But I’m bored. Nothing out tonight, and Alfred’s cooking the good ham today, anyway.”

“Did your new friends ditch you or something?” Damian asked with his eyebrows raised, earning a twitch of irritation from Todd, before he earned himself a nice cuff on the back of his head from Todd, and he snickered softly in reply. He stretched out on the chair, a lazy, cat-like smirk on his face, and Todd’s scowl only deepened in response to the smirk from Damian.

“No.” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest, after setting the red helmet on the computer desk. “And they’re not my friends. Or teammates. Or anything like that. I don’t work with people anymore, I just happen to have convenient allies.”

“Makes sense.” Damian lilted. “It’s not like people can stand to be around you anyway, Todd.”

He snickered again quietly when he saw Todd’s eyebrow twitch, before the outlaw’s entire face changed. Something downright maniacal suddenly began glinting in his blue-green eyes, and Damian quickly turned back to the computer monitor, praying for it to still be black, and hoping to whatever deity he didn’t believe in that it was still that way. Sure-enough, it was, but that didn’t explain the horrendous look in Todd’s eyes...

“You’re right.” Todd grinned. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have...connections. Ones that can make you pay if you don’t take that back.”

Damian immediately felt himself bristling in response. How _dare_ Todd insinuate that he needed to apologize for anything in his life? He was the son of the demon and the bat, dammit! He never apologized!

“Hell, no.” Damian hissed. “You can’t make me.”

Todd shrugged, humming with a lazy, Cheshire cat smirk. “Oh, well. You asked for it. Don’t blame me when things start going...wrong.”

And, with that, he turned on his heel, almost _strutting_ out of the cave. Damian watched him as he left, frowning deeply, before plugging the monitor back in, and huffing out of his nose.

Well, great. Now he couldn’t focus, and he’d completely lost his place. Looking back up at the list, he let out a sigh, before deciding to just go for it. Even if he couldn’t make the chocolates, he still had more things on his list, and he thought that trying it out would at least give him some good practice for making Jon chocolates in the future...

Then it was decided. Standing up, he saved the document to a flash drive, then exited it, and left the bat cave, a determined look on his face. He was going to ask Alfred how to cook—and he was going to succeed.

* * *

 

The next day, Damian stood outside the White family farm, completely steely-faced, and frowning. Smallville was now home to two farms—the Kent farm stood a few miles away, home to Jon Lane Kent, Clark Kent, and Diana Prince. Lois Lane and Bruce Wayne were also visitors—often enough that Damian showing-up in Smallville was a pretty usual thing—and even though Damian knew that people were so used to the rich socialites of Gotham in Smallville that they didn’t pay him any heed, he still felt ridiculously nervous about this.

Lips pressed together, he finally worked up the courage to begin to walk his way up the driveway...only to find himself completely tackled from the side by a sudden blur of black and red, and the box of half-melted chocolates went flying from his hands, earning a yelp of shock from the Robin in the process.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING TO MY TWIN?” A near-demonic voice yelled, and Damian blinked rapidly, before coming face-to-face with Lane, who looked as if he were near about to burst a blood vessel. Damian opened his mouth, ready to ask Lane to take a damn breath mint, before he found himself lifted up by his collar, up against the red truck.

“Put me down, you psychopath!” Damian snapped, reaching for his tool belt, but that only made Lane’s face twist further.

“ARE YOU PLANNING TO SEDUCE MY INNOCENT TWIN? HE’S JUST A BABY! HE DOESN’T NEED SOMEONE LIKE YOU IN HIS LIFE!” The indignant yelp that escaped Damian after that was apparently lost on Lane, as was his distress on the rest, because the Amazon that palled around with them simply strolled behind Lane and picked up the box of chocolates, beginning to pop them into her mouth one by one.

“Those are--!”

“SEDUCTION TOOLS FOR MY TWIN?” Lane cut him off, earning a choked laugh from Todd, who also appeared behind the truck, clutching his stomach in laughter. Putting two and two together quickly, Damian fixed a hate-filled glare on Todd, who only gave a shit-eating grin in response, and grabbed one of the chocolates from the box.

“None of your business!” Damian snapped back, before twisting Lane’s wrist, and managing to squirm out of his grasp with a quick slip he’d learned from his father. Lane lunged for him again, but Artemis thankfully made herself useful, stepping between them, and swinging down her axe.

“Okay, enough threatening.” She said very sternly. “We agreed we wouldn’t hurt him. That would only get us all in trouble.”

Lane let out a low grumble, but huffed, and turned his nose up in the air. This earned an eye-roll from Artemis, and Damian was about to get up and get revenge on Todd for this, before he noticed that Todd was reaching for some kind of pistol...one that was far, far too colorful to be one of his regular guns.

“What is that?” He asked, a little apprehensive. Three identical, mischievous grins met him, and Lane immediately opened fire on Damian, earning a yelp and a reflexive dodge. He was about to panic, before he looked back, and saw the splat of yellow paint behind him.

Paint. Paintball guns.

“Now, REVENGE!”

Damian screamed as he ran, swearing his own personal revenge in the process.

Jon, unfortunately, would have to wait until he could regroup another day.


	2. Chapter 2

Damian was a very stubborn boy.

It wasn’t as if he were an idiot—on the contrary, he was quite smart, if he did say so himself, and he would indeed say it, and quite a lot. No, Damian knew when he had limits, and though they were few and far between, he would let it go if it became too much for him.

After all, he did eventually relent when his father said no more pets. Granted, it was after they had literally no more room left in the mansion—but the fact that he had done it as all was something that he was pretty damn proud of.

Damian wasn’t exactly...the easiest person to get along with, and he was well aware of that. He was someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and knew that he wanted to get there, and that he wouldn’t stop until he did. He went straight for his goals, as soon as he possibly could, and he never let himself get deterred by anything at all. His goal, this time, was going to be getting Jon in his bed at all costs—and he was never going to let anything get in his way—especially if it was going to be someone as annoying and idiotic as Todd, or the rest of his family, or even Jon’s family.

Nothing was going to stop the Son of the Batman, or the Son of the Demon’s Daughter. And he would be damned if he was ever going let anybody even try to get in his way.

With his fingers folded in front of his face, and his eyes narrowed into white slits behind the green of his mask, his lips were pursed into a low frown, his green gloves crossed right in front of his mouth. This time, he was completely sure about this—there was going to be nobody who was going to interrupt him this time, especially not the idiotic, annoying, petty Jason Todd.

(And yes, Damian was aware that he was just as guilty of being petty as the aforementioned person, but just because he did the same thing didn’t mean he couldn’t call anybody else out on it, dammit. That was not the way the world worked. He got scolded all the time by his father and his grandfather for things that they all did—and even his older brothers, who always scolded him about working himself to death, did the exact same thing anyway. And no, he also wasn’t getting defensive about this either, he just didn’t like being yelled at for stupid things, and he would rather appreciate it if people would stop.)

A few bats squeaked behind him, alerting Damian to the fact that someone was approaching. Reaching into the pouch at his belt, ready to fling a batarang at what he assumed to be Todd coming to bother him, he found his wrist caught instead by his father, who gave him a dry look at the apparent attack coming at him from his son. Damian grumbled under his breath, going back to looking at the computer screen, quickly cutting-off the power to the monitor so that his father wouldn’t say anything, and possibly either embarrass him—or worse, let Kent and his family know about Damian’s plan.

Nothing was worse than triggering an attack from an overprotective alien. Damian knew that first-hand.

“What are you doing down here without supervision?” His father grunted at him, resting one of his hands on the desk, and making Damian sink low in his seat, looking away from his father, and back towards the floor.

“I am working on a case, father. I wanted to prove to you that I could do this alone, without your help.” Damian muttered, still keeping his eyes away from the Batman. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie—he was definitely doing this without the Batman’s help, or even the playboy Bruce Wayne’s—and admitting his feelings to Jon was also definitely counted as a case, even for the Batman. Even so, his father’s face remained skeptical, and Damian was careful to keep a flat look in front of him—a face that the Batman himself had helped train and cultivate, just in case he was ever captured, interrogated, or even tortured by one of the many, many rogues in Gotham’s criminal repertoire.

It wasn’t just his fighting moves that could be used against his father during times of conflict, of course. He was more than capable of using his father’s training against him during times like this.

(And it wasn’t just him either. He’d seen Grayson use his circus training to _literally_ backflip out of arguments, and that wasn’t even counting the strange, strange technological pranks that Drake had done on Damian and Todd both. Todd’s red helmet had played disco anthems for three days straight after an argument  _they_  had.)

Damian looked up, watching his father for a moment, becoming just the littlest bit tense while the Batman looked as if he were going to reach over and turn the monitor back on. Damian’s entire body froze, and he looked as if he were going to simply jump right out of his seat and flee out of the entrance to the cave if he was going to do that. After a tense moment, however, his father simply drew back, removing his cowl and resting his elbow on the back of the chair, resting his hand on the top of Damian’s head, and Damian let out a long, obvious sigh of relief, before inhaling it back in sharply, praying that the Batman hadn’t heard that.

“Well, then, continue on, soldier.” His father said, and Damian gave back a smile, feeling both pleased and relieved by that. When his father turned his back to leave, however, Damian sensed something else approaching behind him, and he looked up at that, only to see Todd resting his back against the wall, eyebrows raised in bemusement.

“What, lying to the old man, now?” He asked, voice dry.

“No, and would it matter if I did?” Damian asked, turning his chin up in defiance. Todd scoffed, shaking his head, before also approaching.

He immediately went right for the monitor button, and Damian dove forward sharply, instead pulling the plug right out of the screen, and shoving it to the floor. It quickly devolved into some kind of wrestling match, with Todd holding the cable high above Damian’s head, and Damian climbing like a monkey up his side, grabbing for it while Todd laughed.

“Fine, fine!” Todd snickered, tossing it to the floor, with a cocky smile on his face. “Not like I need to know, anyway. Already have a plan to ruin you without knowing.” And, with that, he turned to walk out, narrowly dodging a batarang thrown by Damian at him on his way out.

Damian sank back down into the chair, scowling, completely unaware of the Batman having been watching him from the ceiling the entire time.

* * *

 

**_Plan Two: taking Jon out to eat dinner at a fancy restaurant._ **

It wasn’t as if Damian had any kind of limited access to resources—being a Wayne, and all. True, Tim Drake was the official second-in-line to inherit Wayne Enterprises, but Damian was the third in line, and had more than a few dollars to spare here and there.

This time, of course, he was going to be clever about this, and he wasn’t going to walk right into the lion’s den. Instead, he decided to wait for Jon to be completely home alone in the Kent apartment in Metropolis, with Superman off on a deep space mission, and Lane out on some kind of overseas scope.

That left them plenty of time to have a nice, long, romantic evening together. Damian even decided to combine it with bringing him chocolate flowers—he didn’t want to be too cheesy, but he also wanted to have something to give to Jon, so he would have a better chance of getting him to agree.

Walking up the front steps of the apartment door, Damian cleared his throat, straightening out his tie, and adjusted his nice, clean, white button-down shirt, and black slacks. Not too formal—he hated tuxedos—but nice-enough to look serious about something like this.

He raised his hand, to begin knocking on the door—

\--and then he was promptly lifted-up by the scruff of his shirt, and hefted up to eye-level with the second Kent, Superboy.

“What?” Damian asked, completely and utterly blanking-out at the strangeness of the scenario. Kent’s face was utterly unamused, flat while he frowned.

“What are you doing here? Are you trying to seduce my brother?” Kent asked. Damian’s mouth open and closed in shock, before he shook his head, and frowned.

“It’s none of your business, Kent! Now put me down! Jon isn’t your property, he can do what he wants!”

“No, but he’s my brother.” Kent’s scowl deepened. “Do you have your Robin suit underneath that?”

“What?” Damian asked.

“Do you have your Robin suit under that?”

“Of course, I never— “

“Then use your grappling hook in ten seconds!”

And, with that, Kent promptly snatched the chocolate roses out of Damian’s hand, and he threw Damian overhand, and the Robin flew through the sky, straight as an arrow, until he managed to grapple himself onto the side of the Daily Planet, as he used his binoculars to watch Conner walk back inside.

From inside, he saw Todd grinning at him, before drawing the curtains shut, and biting into a chocolate rose in the process.


	3. Chapter 3

Damian was a very sensitive boy.

Not in the emotional sense, of course. To be honest, Damian had the emotional width of a teaspoon. However, he was definitely sensitive to things like situations, sensitive to things like what planning needed to be required, and the appropriate steps that were needed to get them there.

He had no problem sitting for hours on end at the desk of the bat computer (when his father was away from it, of course, he still had to ask permission to be able to use it) with his fingers folded in front of his face, staring intently at the screen of the computer, eyes narrowed into white slits while he attempted to bleach his sepia skin, his dark, emerald green gloves folded right in front of his thin lips while he stared at the screen.

His handsome face—angular from his father’s side, smooth and attractive features from his mother’s side—was completely and utterly blank while he continued to plan, the only thing giving away his state of mind being the narrowing of his eyes while he leaned closer to the screen, his nose almost touching the cold, electric glass that was just right in front of his eyes.

This time, he had been careful today. He had made sure that Todd was out on a mission with his little friends, and he wouldn’t be interrupted at all. On top of that, he had made sure that none of his other “siblings” would be coming to interrupt him, nor his father. Today, he would be completely and utterly alone, leaving him time to plan his next move without someone coming in to suddenly try and make some unfunny jokes towards him, or suddenly call all of the guard dogs that seemed to have been watching Jon as if he were a princess trapped up in a castle, and they were angry dragons holding him back from a knight in shining armor.

_Mmm...Jon wearing a princess costume..._

That was definitely something that Damian would file away in the back of his mind for later pondering...perhaps he should look into buying some sort of showy princess gown for Jon... _something that exposed plenty of back and shoulder flesh for Damian’s viewing pleasure, the nice freckles on his shoulders showing for everyone to see..._

Shaking himself out of the directions that his thoughts were going, Damian instead stretched out his muscles over his head, yawning, and then scratching his side. Resting himself on flat on the keyboard after locking it, he glanced up at the screen, and scowled again.

Well, it was now or never...he wasn’t going to get any chance like this in a while, and he would sure as hell prefer to do this now and embarrass himself rather than risk getting hurt again.

He was still smarting from that last throw by Superboy, and Kent hadn’t even been trying to hurt him, as far as he knew.

So, with that in mind, Robin got to his feet, tugging his hood over his head and...went to hop in the shower, and prepare for a long day out.

 ** _Plan three: take Jon to the movies_**.

* * *

The funny thing about the House of El was they were simultaneously the best and worst family at keeping secrets that one has ever seen.

Sure, one could make fun of how the the grand disguise of the Superman Family was a pair of glasses for all of them, and that the only thing Conner did at all to change from in and out of costume was put on a different shirt, but the fact remained that Tim Drake and Cassandra Cain had been able to figure out who Batman was, but Superman’s disguise still remained completely in-tact and sealed-off from anyone who wasn’t allowed into the intimate fold of the secrets of the House of El.

That being said, they were still a family, and there were still certain things that family told each other, especially when it came to things that pertained to the youngest and most precious of all of them—Jonathan Samuel Kent.

If there was one thing that absolutely bound the whole family together—even more than Truth, Justice, and the American way—it was the fact that each and every one of them was dedicated to protecting Jon, and making sure that nothing can or ever will come in the way of Jon being safe, happy, and protected in life.

When it came to the rest of the family, they all had their disagreements—whether it be Laney’s philosophy of justice and how to execute it, or Kara’s feelings on humanity and the nature of her identity as a Kryptonian versus living as a human, or even Karen and her conflicting feelings on living on this Earth versus going back the painful past of where she had come from—but hell, if all three of them weren’t dedicated to protecting Jon and his passionate heart, then there just wasn’t ever going to be anything that could keep all of them together in this world.

It was a good thing, then, that he did.

As such, that morning, when Conner had been ready to head out for a week-long trip with the Titans out into a deep space mission, he knew exactly where to go to make sure that his baby brother was safe and protected from Damian, who he just knew in his heart was going to make his brother do dirty and rotten things with him that Conner didn’t even want to think about.

Maybe he was just being a little hyperbolic.

But, well, that was completely out of his hands now—and he was going to be damn sure that he wasn’t the only one who was going to get blamed for this when Batman found out just what he was going to be doing to make sure that Damian stayed away from his sweet, innocent, precious little brother.

“Good morning, girls.” Conner said smoothly as he slid into place at the breakfast table, a smile on his face that completely and utterly promised trouble.

Sitting with him that morning were Mia, Natasha, and Traci—the three Supergirls that Clark had taken under his wing so many years ago. Now, the three of them were in college, and had basically moved into the Kent household, staying almost every weekend at Clark’s apartment, just the same as Conner.

“Morning, Kon.” Mia said, taking a long drink of chocolate milk, while Natasha bounced her eyebrows in greeting over her cup of coffee. Conner took a quick sip himself, before kicking his shoes up on the table, earning a sardonic look from Traci in the process.

“Hello, girls. Did you know that someone out there is planning to ask Jon out on a date, probably today?” Conner asked, lounging one arm over the back of the chair. Immediately, Mia’s face lit up as she poured some chocolate syrup over her pancakes.

“Really? That’s adorable!” She gushed. “Who’s it going to be? One of his classmates at school? What about that cute boy with the dreadlocks? Or that cute girl with the red hair?” She clasped her hands together, swooning a little at that. “You know how much he has a thing for redheads! He must have gotten that from dad...”

Conner cringed at the thought of Kal’s preferences—personally, he just wanted to think that Kal found absolutely nobody attractive, and that Jon had just spawned out of a tube the same way that Conner did—but whatever, to each their own. “No, actually. I know exactly who is going to ask him out, and I don’t think that you’re going to like it.”

“Nonsense~!” Mia chirped, waving her hand happily, earning an amused sigh from Natasha, who just shook her head at her friend’s antics. “Anyone who Jon likes is going to be wonderful, I just know it!”

“It’s Damian.” Traci cut in, taking Conner off-guard, with a smirk on her face. Well, Conner couldn’t say that he didn’t appreciate that—being the one to break the news would certainly not fare well for him.

For one, long moment, everything was silent, while Conner leaned back in triumph. A pin could almost be heard dropping, even if two of them didn’t have super-hearing, and one of them didn’t have magic.

**_“WHAT?”_ **

Mia immediately slammed her hands down on the table as she jumped upwards, her eyes blazing red with indignation, while Traci stood up without a single word, so that her coffee wouldn’t be spilled all over Conner, along with the rest of the table. Unfortunately, Natasha wasn’t so lucky, and Conner ended up completely covered in coffee, table, and Mia’s chocolate milk and pancakes, along with the ugly, flannel tablecloth that Kal insisted was completely fashionable, because it matched his morning robe perfectly.

“You heard me.” Conner said, as soon as he had been able to properly crawl out from under the wooden table, setting it upright along with a tired and exasperated Natasha, and an amused Traci.

“Couldn’t you have waited until we were all finished eating?” Natasha sighed. “Now I’m going to have to make a second cup.”

“Nope.” Conner said, popping the ‘p,’ and earning himself a punch in the arm. Instead of complaining, he stood in triumph, hands on his hips while Natasha indeed went to make her second cup.

“So, when is he going to do this?” Mia asked, a deep frown on her lips while she mirrored the Superman pose, though the effect was incredibly amusing in her polka-dot pajamas. “I need a time, a place, and everything else he has planned!”

“I have no idea. I just caught him last time.”

“Why don’t we follow Jon around today, and stop him them?” Traci suggested. “And get Kara and Karen to also come along, or at least keep an eye on him.”

“Good idea.” Natasha said, returning and giving Traci a quick kiss. “After we make Conner clean all of this up.”

Conner’s face flushed, and he immediately turned to head out of the door. “Well, actually, I’ve got to go and meet with the Titans, we’re going to do a space mission today and— “

But he was already pulled back into the room before he could even make it out the door.

* * *

That day, Jon had been taken up to the Titans base, and he’d let Damian know before he had gone up there exactly what he was doing. Part of him had been hoping, in truth, that Damian would catch on to what he had wanted, but he also didn’t really expect it to be the case. Some part of him had just thought that Damian would only see him as a friend and nothing else, despite the fact that Kathy had reassured him that Damian completely liked him, but he just didn’t think it was the case...

He had leant his cheek on his hand, unhappily sipping at his milkshake while Streaky sat in his lap, and Karen and Kara whispered frantically to each other in the other room. The other Supergirls had visited, followed by his Aunt Linda, who was back in her favorite white robes today. The rest of the Titans had left to some space mission, and Jon had seen Conner off, a bit on the glum side to be seeing his brother leaving for such a long time.

Outside, hoping that Jon would agree, obviously in such a sour mood and desperate for attention, Damian waited, knocking on the door, expecting Jon to be completely alone.

What he got, instead, was Linda appearing in a burst of flaming fire, all of the rest of the Supergirls at her side. Damian stopped completely short, taking a step backwards, eyes huge with complete shock. He immediately went for kryptonite, but instead found Natasha’s giant, steel hammer coming down, right on his hand, making him gasp in shock.

“What are you...?”

Kara grabbed him by the back of his hood, drawing him up, and Damian sneered.

“You can’t keep doing this forever, _bunny!”_

“Bun--?”

“Shut up!”

“Hey, Supergirl.” Karen said. “Why don’t we just drop him off back in Gotham, and take Jon out for some ice cream?”

“That’s a great idea, Power Girl. How do you say we do that?”

“A hit from my hammer should do the trick.” Natasha said with a nod.

Damian buried his face in his hands, switching to his kryptonian armor with a switch on the inside of his glove.

They didn’t hurt him, of course. It was all just a bluff.

Save for the fact that he was grounded for using the bat-plane by his father after he got back.

 _Kent and Todd were both going to pay_.


	4. Chapter 4

Chris Kent was a very, very kind boy.

That was definitely something to be said about the House of El, and the kinds of people who were invited into it, and the kind of person that Chris was. Despite everything that had been done to him, despite everyone telling him what he was supposed to be, despite even himself thinking that there was something wrong with him, or that because he had come from someone bad that was how he was supposed to be at times, he had grown to know who he was, and who he was going to be.

Chris had led a hard life—everyone knew it, despite the fact that not too many of them talked about it anymore. It was how it was, and there just wasn’t any way that they could make it better by talking about it, or any way that it was going to change anything. Chris Kent had been born to be nothing more than a key to the prison that his progenitors (he didn’t use the word parents with them—parents had a special meaning to them, and Ursa and Zod didn’t deserve that) were trapped in, and that had been that. He had been delivered to Earth to be nothing more than a trap for both Earth and Superman alike, and when he had been taken in by Superman and Lois Lane, those had been the best times of his life.

He remembered, sometimes, how he had felt when he had been carried home by Superman, sitting contently and quietly in his arms. He had folded his hands over his stomach, feeling completely and utterly safe in the man’s hold while he had been quietly carried back to the home of Martha Kent. He had remembered when he had been adopted by them, when he had been given his name, and when he had moved to the city and he had gone to school for the first time. He remembered taking a day off and flying with Kal-El through the sky, feeling just like a boy who had a normal childhood, just like a boy who was bored with school and wanted to spend time with his parents, who wanted to spend time with his _dad_.

The rest of Chris Kent’s life, however, hadn’t been the best.

He had been abused by Ursa and Zod—there was just no way around that, no way to make it sound sweeter than it really was. He had been trapped in a world where physical bodies were torn apart, he had been protected by his Uncle Mon-El as much as he could have been, but that had just not been enough to protect him from Dru-Zod and Ursa. He had been turned into a living weapon, not only by Zod, but by the god of Krypton, Nightwing. He had been rescued by Thara and brought to Earth, which did not accept him, despite the fact that he only did his best to protect people, and all he could do was follow in the footsteps of his mother and father, Lois Lane and Kal-El, who raised him to do what was right, even when the entire rest of the world had turned against them.

That was just the way of the House of El.

But Chris was not only of the House of El, not at all. His other mission in life, besides protecting his Flamebird and the people of Earth, was to bring honor back to the name of House Zod, and House Zod was a very, very possessive House indeed.

The House of Zod was a House that loved in the shadows, perfect for the vessel of Nightwing, and was a House of power and might and protection, a House that had no problem doing what was completely necessary in order to protect the people of Krypton in the past, and to protect his Flamebird in the present. The House of Zod was a House that wrapped the ones it protected in the tendrils of shadow that stretched long and wide, casting their net of darkness over the entire planet in order to protect it from there. The House of Zod was not a pretty House, nor a noble House like the House of El, but the House of Zod was a House that protected, a House that treasured those precious to it, and those that it chose to protect in the soothing, gentle dark that was so terrifying those that made it its enemy, but a source of strength and protection to those that knew the darkness and the night as its closest friend and ally.

There was a reason that the closest ally to the House of the Sun, historically, had always been the House of the Moon, the House of the Night. It hadn’t been until the end of Krypton that the Houses of Zod and El had ever been enemies—they had always been close allies before they had become split at the very end, and even then, Chris Kent—or Lor-Zod—had been the one who had tied their two Houses together again.

Yes, the history of House Zod and House El was one that was long, one that was complicated, and one that was intricate and twined both of their bloodlines together until it was almost something that was one in the same, something that made both of them almost destined to be together, as far as Chris was concerned. And, on that same note, Chris was going to be damn well sure that his Flamebird was never going to be taken by anyone else, not if he had anything to say about it.

Chris was a member of the House of El, yes, but he was also the blood of the House of Zod, and the House of Zod was the dark root of the greatness of the House of El and all of their purity and light, two sides of the same coin.

Nightwing, and Flamebird.

* * *

Damian had just about enough of this.

This time, he was going to make sure that he got there first, before anybody or anyone else could be there, especially the rest of both of their idiot families.

After being grounded for two weeks (he’d negotiated down a month, because despite how much his father was a strict man, he was still week for his children) and he had made sure, absolutely sure, that he was going to be able to do this right. Scrapping his last few plans, he had decided to instead go straight for it, and ask Jon out without any kind of fancy show, or any kind of flashy, ridiculous, over the top thing that the Wayne family was known for. No, this time, he was going to so simply face-to-face, because Jon had always been someone who liked people being honest with him, even if Jon was a hopeless romantic who was a complete sucker for silly things like flowers and chocolates.

Okay, so Damian still kept the flowers anyway, but that was just because they tended to make Jon happy, and he liked seeing Jon smile. But he was definitely going to put the rest of the romance out of the way—and besides, flowers were expensive, even if he was a billionaire.

Jon, that week, had taken the time to go up to the Fortress of Solitude, something that his father had the key to, which Damian had snuck out of the key in the back of his father’s weapon’s vault, but only to borrow, he had told himself. The key was a strange crystal that had been kept in some kind of sphere, something that required a password to unlock, which had turned out to be banana muffin—whatever that had meant. Snatching the key from its sphere, Damian went right back to the plane that he had planned to take again, only to find that it recognized his fingerprint, and locked him out.

 _Great_.

( _Whatever, he decided he’d just take the jet instead.)_

Upon retrospect, he decided that it was probably a better idea, all things considered, since it cut the flight time at least by half, even if he had absolutely no idea how to fly the damn thing, which probably contributed a good chunk of how much flight he had cut down on. He also ended up crashing the jet, too, and had to eject himself from the pilot chair and parachute his way down to the Fortress, but whatever, he figured that his father could buy another one anyway, and even if he couldn’t, Kent could just crush a piece of coal into diamond for him, and that would be just as good, wouldn’t it?

Mother could, too. He could just use his puppy eyes on Mother—that always worked with her.

Making his way up to the front of the Fortress, he spotted the white dog in a cape sleeping outside, chewing on a bone, and he crept up past him, knowing about the dog’s super-bark. Damian loved animals, but this was even more important than petting a dog, if any such thing were possible. He swiped the crystal key under the lock of the Fortress, and made his way up inside, the massive, crystal doors opening up in front of him, and making Damian wonder just how the hell a farmboy who made less than a fraction of what his combined parents made in a single year could build something as grandiose as _this_ , and still not know how the hell to tie his suit tie properly.

Creeping inside of the Fortress, he made his way to the main computer room, keeping his eyes on the map built inside his communicator at all times. When he finally managed to get there, he noticed that someone else was on the computer, and he rushed forward, heart almost thudding out of his chest. Spinning around the chair, his mouth opened, and he was ready to just out and declare that Jon should get out of that chair and head out with him to dinner now, only to be met with...

...someone else.

For a moment, Damian was confused, thinking that this was some kind of intruder, before he noticed that the costume the older boy wore had the same sort of diamond pattern on it, but with a dragon in it. Only a second later, he realized that this was Chris Kent, or the second Nightwing, and Damian’s face dropped into a scowl.

“I thought Jon was supposed to be here today.” Damian said, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing as he turned up his nose at the older boy. Kent’s eyebrows raised equally in response, and he folded his own arms over his chest, almost exactly mirroring Damian’s pose.

“And I thought you were supposed to be grounded.”

“You thought wrong. I was released by my father today.”

“Did he also let you take the jet here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Then it’s none of your business whether Jon is here or isn’t here.”

Damian’s nose only turned up further. “Of course it is, I intend to court him, and I find that you are getting in my way, Kent.”

“What if I tell you that he’s already taken, Wayne?” Kent asked, his eyes narrowing in obvious disdain.

“Then he’s made a grave mistake going out with the likes of you, and I intend to show him the errors of his ways.” Damian said, a smug smirk crawling across his face. Kent’s eyes only narrowed further, and Damian heard a voice down the hall—Jon’s voice—calling for him. Damian immediately lept forward, intending to show Kent right to his face just how wrong he was—

\--only for a black hole to open up right under his feet, shadows crawling up his body and completely swamping him. Just then, the moment that they covered his face, Jon walked into the room, and Damian was spat out, right in the bat cave.

_He was so grounded._


	5. Chapter 5

Clark Kent was a very, very patient man.

It wasn’t that he was a perfectly-tempered man, of course. He had his moments of impatience, of short-temperedness, of even snapping in anger—Zod’s broken wrist when he’d tried to beat Chris more than attested to that, as did the time that Clark drove Darkseid into the very center of the universe for even attempting to lay a hand on Kara. No, Clark was a man who had his more than fair share of brushes with rage, and he was perfectly nice and capable of admitting that.

 _Particularly_ when it came to his children.

He had torn the world apart looking for Kara when she had been taken from him, and the same came with his other kids. Brainiac in particular knew that he would never be able to raise a hand against his own child, and had ended up creating a false daughter that Clark loved just as much as if she were his own.

And he still loved her, to this very day.

No, when it came to his children, Clark almost had zero patience—at least when it came to people who were going to try and hurt his children when they tried to lay their hands on them. When it came to dating his children, on the other hand...

Oh no, he was very, _very_ patient indeed.

Clark knew, and he knew very well, that Damian Wayne intended on dating his son. He had known since Damian turned fourteen that he was going to do his best to date his child—he may rely on his x-ray vision for a lot of things, but he was not _blind_. Anyone could tell, from the way that Damian was constantly trying to get his attention, to the way that he stared at Jon when he thought that he wasn’t looking, that Damian had fallen for the little kryptonian, deeply and thoroughly, and that there was just no getting him out of what had gotten in his head.

And, quite frankly, Clark didn’t mind it—at least, up to a point.

Sure, he had been pretty hard on relationships back when he had first started out as a parent (Kara alone could attest to hard he had been on her various relationships, and how he really did not need to scare people off as bad as he did, the only person that he didn’t scare off was Stephanie, and that was just because Stephanie refused to let herself be scared by him—she knew that he was incapable of hurting a fly, and especially wouldn’t hurt a former Robin) but he had softened his stance a little bit on parenting, to the point that he still insisted on getting to know his children’s partners, but wouldn’t immediately attempt to terrify them out of the door the moment that they set foot inside.

However, when it came to this, he was not going to let up so lightly. He knew Damian, and he loved Damian, but he also wanted what was best for Jon—and what was best for Jon was someone who could properly _sweep Jon off his feet and take care of him for life_ , and Damian had yet to prove himself worthy of being someone who could do that for his son.

It wasn’t anything personal—he just loved Jon too much.

That was how he ended up in the batcave, peering over Bruce’s shoulder while the other man looked at the computer monitor in dry amusement, Clark frowning at the text on the word document the whole time.

“It’s just like you suspected, I’m afraid.” Bruce said with an air of dry wit that made Clark want to punch him, but lightly, just enough to graze him. “Damian is in love with Jon, and wants to ask him out.”

“But how is he going to do it, Bruce?” Clark asked, urgency rising in his tone. “Is he going to do it romantically? Is he going to make Jon feel special? And how does he feel about Jon, anyway? Does he really love him? Does he spend his nights thinking about him? Does he write poetry about him? Would he lay down in a mud puddle so Jon wouldn’t get his shoes dirty? Would he--?”

Bruce cut off Clark’s little rant with a wave of his glove, before pulling his black cowl over his face, and elegantly folding his fingers in front of his lips, the white lenses of his cowl narrowed in a familiar squint while he observed his computer monitor. Clark, in turn, set his lips into a little frown, letting out a soft huff through his nose while he put his hands on his hips in a familiar gesture of irritation, something that only made Bruce smirk in turn.

Who said that the bat was all about being serious and responsible, anyway? He was more than happy to annoy Clark whenever he got the chance.

“Why don’t you go ask him yourself, Clark?” Bruce mused, not turning away from the screen of the computer while he spoke. “I’m sure he would be more than happy to answer each and every question you ask him without any hint of irony or sarcasm whatsoever.”

“And you’re not going to be watching me?” Clark asked, dryly, raising his eyebrows in turn. “Bruce, you _bought my workplace_ so that you could keep an eye on me, and you _bought my apartment complex_. How the _heck_ do you think I’m just going to believe that you’re not going to be dogging my every footstep?” At the end of his tiny rant, Clark’s voice pitched an octave higher in his indignation, and his midwestern accent began to show in his speech. Bruce, rather than being impressed, only rolled his eyes in response, and he reached one, black gloved hand up behind him, his fingers pinching Clark right on the bridge of his nose, before pulling him down to eye level with the bat.

“Just shut up and do it, Clark.” The dark knight asked, his voice laced with amusement. Clark paused, before letting out a huff, pulling himself back and brushing himself off.

“You’re something special, you know that?” He groused. Bruce’s smirk, still hidden by facing away, widened.

“I’m well-aware of how special you think I am.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

Damian was a very, very impatient boy.

That might have seemed like a contradiction, all things considered. After all—he was a trained assassin, and knew just how to wait, to let his prey come to him, to let himself lay like a spider in its web. He was someone who knew the value of silence, of stillness, and he knew more than enough about the art of the shadow.

That wasn’t to say he particularly _liked_ it.

Quite frankly, Damian was getting sick of everything that was standing in his way. He had no idea why this was getting to be such a chore, and he had long since abandoned his plans for making things grand and romantic—no, he was going to do things like a _proper_ son of al Ghul, just the way that his mother had taught him to do things. Lady Talia al Ghul, whenever she wanted things, would just go right for the throat, with no if’s, and’s, or but’s. When Lady Talia set her eye on something or somebody, she was never going to stop until it fell right into the palm of her hand.

After all, not _everyone_ got to be the son of the demon’s daughter and the bat.

It took Damian a good week to be able to track Jon’s schedule down, and find a gap in it where he was going to be completely away from everyone, with absolutely _no_ interference from any of his siblings. He was going to be coming home from school while Superboy was at football practice, the Supergirls were in class, and the eldest two girls were in class at Metropolis University. He’d even made sure that Laney was off on a mission with the Outlaws, despite the fact that Todd refused to tell him anything, Artemis was at least kind enough to let him know when they were gone.

Jon, of course, was rather used to Damian lurking around. When his super senses had become more consistent (or at least when he’d been able to keep his passion steady and under control so he could finally work on using them) he’d caught Damian randomly lurking in trees, under cars, or outside of the window with a pair of night vision goggles in broad daylight, just watching him go about his day.

(Jon had once confronted his dad about that, actually. Clark had just shrugged, and gestured out the window, to where Batman was crouching behind a dumpster and watching him. It was just a bat thing, he said. Conner was followed by Tim as well, and he’d been just as freaked out when it started. You could try to make him stop all you want, but he really didn’t think they’d stop anytime soon.)

On Friday afternoon, when the rest of his siblings were at their various activities, Damian had jumped right down from the treetops, decked in full Robin gear, in the complete view of all of Jon’s classmates. Jon, who would have almost jumped right out of his skin when he was younger, now he only sighed when he saw Damian popping right out of nowhere, and landing in front of him.

“You know, it isn’t exactly great for keeping your secret identity when you just keep showing up in my civilian life.” Jon said dryly, planting one hand on his hip and cocking it to the side.

“Nobody notices anymore.” Damian replied flatly, wiping what could only have been imaginary dust off of his sleeve.

“You sound a bit too much like Lex, you know that?” Jon asked flatly, instead crossing his arms over his chest. Damian huffed through his nose, but instead he took a few steps forward, reaching out and grasping Jon’s hands tightly in his own.

Jon stopped, dead in his tracks. His eyes opened wide, and his mouth fell just the littlest bit open, a blush starting to rise on his cheeks. Seeing that, Damian took another step forward, until he was almost toe to toe with Jon, his hands squeezing Jon’s tightly in his own.

“Jon, I have something I need to ask you.” Damian said, his voice level and firm, his heart pounding in his chest. In Jon’s eyes, he could see that Jon had been expecting it for a while, and he could have sworn that the entire world would have stopped around him, and that angels were going to emerge from the heavens and sing just for them.

(He was a little bit dramatic, he was well-aware of that. But he also inherited that from his father. One had to be dramatic to dress up like a bat and take on crime, you know.)

Damian was just about to open his mouth, his question finally on the tip of his tongue, before there came a sudden, loud honking—loud enough for Jon’s classmates to actually turn to look at the source of the noise. Stepping out of an enormous, red pickup truck was Clark Kent, whose eyes immediately locked onto Damian’s, and he flashed a smile that looked downright bloodthirsty—at least to Damian.

Again, he might have exaggerated.

Kent walked over with precise, purposeful movements, until he was right in front of Jon, who looked quickly between the both of them. That was when Damian saw his own father approaching from the pickup, but his father only hung back, hands in his pockets.

It appeared as if Damian was going to be alone this time.

“Jon, I came to pick you up for dinner at your grandma’s.” Kent said, his smile so kind and bright that it only could have been fake. Damian gritted his jaw tightly, but said nothing as Jon went over to Kent, entirely unquestioning about the very specific timing of Kent’s intrusion.

“I’ll see you later, Robin.” Kent said with a smile tossed at the youngest Wayne’s way, earning only a death glare from Damian, and a few whispers from Jon’s classmates, though they were mostly about why _Bruce Wayne_ had shown up to pick up Jon, rather than about Robin.

“I’ll see you later _indeed_.” Revenge was a dish best served with a _date_.


	6. Chapter 6

It was two weeks later, after everything had quieted down from all of the recent chaos in Jon’s life, that he had decided to finally put his plan into action.

            For the last few months, he had been planning the perfect way to ask Damian out, and had kept his family all in on his plan. Damian had been a boy who was raised in luxury, after all—he had been a boy whose mother had been a ruling family from the shadows for ages he couldn’t even comprehend, and his father was a member of Old Money in the Eastern United States, who owned half of Gotham’s land in his family name. Even with all of the fantastical powers that he possessed, even with how his own family name went back to being connected to Rao himself, that was still nothing on Earth, and Jon had to prove himself to Damian—even if it was only to assuage his own fears that he could provide for the boy, and make himself worth something in Damian’s eyes.

            He had been gathering supplies for weeks, from the deepest stars in the solar system, to the singing flowers of distant comets, to the deepest treasures in nebulas lightyears away. He’d asked Chris to bring him solid ice from the most distant parts of the Phantom Zone, he’d asked Conner to bring him compressed stars, he asked Linda to give him a piece of her angel wings that he could hold in the palm of his hand, sure it would never go out. With the treasures in his possession that only _his_ family could bring to Damian, treasures that Damian was sure to never get with only the influence of his bloodline, Jon had set to work, to make the perfect gift for Damian, a gift that he was sure would make Damian want to be with him, for as long as it was possible to be.

            That was, if Damian could be _patient_ enough.

            Jon wasn’t at all an oblivious boy, despite how sweet and naïve that he was. He knew quite well that Damian was going to try and ask him out very soon, but Jon was just not going to let that get in the way of what he was planning, especially if it meant that he wasn’t going to get to prove himself to Damian. He didn’t want what he had with Damian to be something that was going to be short, or a fling, or something that Damian would get bored of as soon as they both really grew up, and Damian had to settle down with him somewhere. No, he was going to make sure that Damian knew he was someone worth staying with, even if he had to hold him off for the time being.

            And _that_ meant sending his parents and siblings after him.

            It was Laney who had first told him about the fact that Damian was very clearly going to ask Jon out, after Jason had teased him about the fact that his baby brother was getting a boyfriend. He had gone ahead and stopped Damian himself, but after Jon found out, he asked Jason and Laney to tell his other siblings and his dad, so that Damian wouldn’t ruin his plans.

            Without telling any of them about his true intentions, they had all gone ahead and had done it, while Jon used his dad’s lab to work, perfecting his gift for several weeks, until it was finally perfect.

            At this point, most of his siblings must have stopped Damian, because, if he knew anything about the Robin, he knew that he was stubborn, and that pretty much nothing could stop him, if he really set his mind to it. Jon knew that he was going to have to explain to him everything at some point, and he really helped none of his family gave him too much trouble, but he also knew that this was the only way he was ever going to trust himself in his own ability to make Damian happy, when they got older, and really started a life together.

           By making him miserable for a few weeks.

           Yeah, he knew that he didn’t make sense sometimes. He blamed his brothers and sisters for that—and maybe even spending way too much time with Damian.

           At least he didn’t _stalk_ him.

           Putting his present for Damian in a box made from ever-frozen ice from the Magnetic Pole of Mar—ice that wouldn’t even melt in the heart of the sun—he put that box in the bottom of a bag, and then tied it up, stringing it over his shoulders while he finally took off into the air, over the roof of the farmhouse, and then soaring up into the sky, over the clouds, and up into the stratosphere, which he’d learned how to fly into several years ago.

           Gotham was up in New Jersey, far away from Kansas, where his family had settled down a while ago, just a few miles away from his alternate dad’s house with Wonder Woman, but for him, it was just a few minutes. He’d broken the sound barrier a few times, and even if it hurt his ears at first, he got used to it pretty shortly, when his eardrums grew back even stronger, used to the heavy strain that they were going to be under from now on.

           When he reached Wayne Manor, though, he found that Damian wasn’t there. Instead, there was Bruce Wayne, sitting at the coffee table, and sipping at his morning coffee, while Alfred made breakfast for him.

          “Where’s Damian?” Jon asked, his face flushed from flight as well as excitement, and Bruce looked at him, then back down at the paper.

          “He left to find you.”

          “Where’s that? Metropolis? Home? The Fortress? The tower--?”

          “He didn’t say. I finally left him off of punishment, though, and he took the jet. He paid for it himself, but I’m pretty sure it was Talia doing it. She spoils the boy too much.” He downed his coffee, then stood up, and brushed himself off. “He’s safe. I put a tracker on him, I’m watching his position now.”

          Jon brightened immediately. “Where is he?”

          Bruce’s lips twitched upwards in amusement. “I think it’s time you try yourself.”

          Jon frowned, huffed, then spun on his converse, flying out the window, heading out towards Metropolis.

* * *

         Damian had just left the Daily Planet, and was heading up towards the Fortress of Solitude, when a streak of blue and crimson blurred across his vision, making him slow down and pull beside the shape. Blinking, he had to focus the white lenses of his glasses to really look, when he saw Jon flying beside him, wearing some sort of string backpack tied up along his back.

         Jon cupped his hands around his mouth, crying out something—something which was obviously lost in the high winds—and Damian rolled his eyes, hitting the button and opening the jet door, allowing Jon to quickly fly inside, running up to stand beside the co-pilot chair, a smile on his face while he sat himself down quickly, unnecessarily buckling up the seatbelt, and reaching inside the backpack to pull out some kind of ice box, setting it in his lap.

         He rocked back and forth in his chair, a blush on his face while he looked back down at his feet, and Damian began his descent over the top of the Daily Planet, circling the golden globe as he began to lower in altitude, pressing his lips together in thought.

_Jon was right here. Right here. This is his chance, and he might not get another one. But how the hell was he going to do this? He didn’t have anything to give, and he had no speech prepared. How was he going to ask him out, he—_

_Just go for it, Damian. It’s not like you have anything else to lose_.

       The jet landed right on the roof of the Daily Planet—not like it was some kind of unusual sight, all things considered, Batman was seen in Metropolis all the time. Exiting the batwing, they both went out onto the roof silently, just in time to see the sun starting to set over the horizon of Metropolis, sending the Gotham skyline out in the distance on fire, and in shadow.

       Jon was clearly nervous, playing with his fingers while he rocked back on his heels, his red cape swaying slightly in the wind. Damian, for his part, just cleared his throat, and quickly turned to Jon, only for Jon to hold out his hand, stopping Damian from opening his mouth, and making Damian glance curiously at him, confused.

      “Wait, before you talk, I have to explain.” Jon said, his voice a little fast. “These last few weeks, I knew that you were trying to ask me out, and I knew that my family was all getting in the way, and that was because I asked them to.”

      Damian stopped short, his jaw hanging open. Jon had...Jon had _asked_ them to keep them apart. What did that--? Was it because Jon didn’t _want_ him to ask him out, and didn’t want to hurt his feelings? Was it because he just didn’t _like_ him?

      Damian nodded shortly, turning on his heel to head back to the wing, but Jon quickly grabbed his hand again, pulling him closer. “No, no, wait! It’s not like that! It’s because I wanted to be the one to ask you out first, but I was working on something, so that I could prove how much I could give to you, and so you wouldn’t get bored of me when we were finally together, and you knew that I could be a good boyfriend who could really make you happy!”

      Everything came out in a waterfall of emotions, and he could feel Damian stop under his hold, turning to look over his shoulder at him. Jon gave him a tentative smile, and pressed the icy box into his hand. Damian’s white lenses slid down to look at the box, and he paused, before he slid his finger under the lock, and carefully opened the lid, reaching inside, and lifting his gift out.

      It was a necklace, one that Jon had made himself, from all of the supplies that his siblings and parents had gotten him. The string was woven of thick gold from the planet Jupiter, at least as thick as a snake, held tight by beads of Linda’s fire, so it could never rust, and never fall apart. The stones were smooth, beautiful, compressed stars from the Andromeda Galaxy, with ice from a comet set inside them to cool them enough so humans could touch them, with petals from singing flowers so that they were constantly burning different colors, ever-changing in their light and hue. Damian’s eyes went wide in shock, and Jon could feel his chest compress tightly—hopefully—that Damian would say yes.

     Damian, without a word, lifted the necklace to his neck, and secured it tightly, before looking back at Jon, and giving a wordless nod. Overjoyed by his acceptance, Jon threw his arms around Damian’s neck, almost crushing him in his hold—something Damian let be known with a soft grunt, which Jon quickly backed away from with a smile.

     “So, let me hear it. You going to let me take you out?” Jon asked with a smile.

     “No, you’re going to let _me_ take _you_ out.”

     “Details, details.”

     “It _has_ to be that way. Even if you asked them to, I’m still getting revenge by rubbing it in your family’s faces that I’ve won.”

     “Won?”

     “The best revenge is a happy life, isn’t it?” Damian asked with a nod.

     Jon considered it. “That, and a punch to the face.”

    “Since when were _you_ the violent one?”

    “Since I met my twin again.”

    “Hnnh. Well. Yes. A punch too.”

    Jon laughed. “Okay. Let’s go on our date. I made reservations.”

    “You’re impossible.”

    “I know.”

    And, with that, the two held hands, and flew off to Jon’s reserved date.

    ...both of their families _totally_ not watching the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand it's the end.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!


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